


A Gentlemen's Agreement - Pt. 8

by TheNightComesDown



Series: A Gentlemen's Agreement [8]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: 6 months in the future, reader and John celebrate her birthday with the kids; a year after Freddie's passing, the Deacons remember what Freddie meant to them.





	A Gentlemen's Agreement - Pt. 8

**Author's Note:**

> We've come to the end of this fic! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope this last part creates the appropriate closure to end the story. 
> 
> Please be warned, Freddie's passing is discussed in the story.

**LONDON, ENGLAND // FEBRUARY 1991**

“John, darling,” you whispered, setting his cup of tea on the bedside table, “you’ve got to get up now.” He rolled away from you, hiding his face in the pillow. With a sigh, you grabbed hold of the blankets he’d hiked up around his shoulders and gave a tug. He had anticipated this move, however, and was holding tightly onto the blanket with both hands, preventing you from pulling it away. 

“You must be _the_ most stubborn man I’ve ever met,” you huffed, setting your hands on your hips. “John, you’re due to pick the kids up in a half hour, and you’re still in bed.” 

“Can’t get up,” he groaned, feigning a slight cough. “I have a headache. Could you go get them, please?” He rolled onto his stomach and pulled his arms beneath his body, as if his hands were cold – they weren’t. 

“Really,” you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. “That’s the game we’re going to play today?” John faked another cough and nodded, not daring to look up at you. He didn’t want to see how annoyed you were, because it would ruin everything. He’d feel obligated to pick the kids up from his ex’s house, and that would defeat the plans he’d meticulously organized for the day. 

“Sorry, love,” he moaned. “I know you don’t like driving. Maybe once you’re there, you can let Robert drive?” 

“Ha! Fat chance,” you laughed sarcastically. “Not after last time, no way.” You shuddered at the memory of supervising John’s oldest son, who was 15 years old, as he drove from school to his father’s flat. He’d become distracted by something happening on the sidewalk, and had torn the mirror right off the side of John’s Volvo, having drifted too close to a lane of parked cars. You weren’t sure who was more traumatized by the experience, Robert or you, who had been tasked with ensuring the vehicle, and John’s son, came back in one piece. 

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” you grouched, crawling up onto the mattress. You straddled John’s body, which was cocooned in the blanket beneath you, and leaned forward to embrace him. He hummed happily, comforted by the weight and warmth of your body. It had been particularly chilly out this past week, with the biting February winds and day after day of freezing rain. If it wasn’t your birthday weekend, he would have insisted that you and the kids crawl into the bed and watch films all day. 

“I love you,” John murmured, his words partially obstructed by the pillow in his face. “Drive safe, alright?” 

“I will,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his temple. He shifted his face towards you, but with a smirk, you sat back up, denying him his kiss. “I don’t want to get your cold,” you shrugged. “Sorry, them’s the rules.” 

You stepped back down onto the floor, giving John space to breathe. He stretched out to your side of the bed, reaching for your pillow, which he hugged to his chest for comfort. On your way out of the bedroom, you grabbed the car keys from atop the chest of drawers containing your clothes; you managed to misplace the silly things nearly every day, so John had encouraged you to get into the habit of leaving them in the same place every time you were finished with them. 

“Love you, too,” you finally responded, slipping into your fashionable blue mackintosh and a pair of matching wellies. “Get some rest, I’m sure the kids will want to spend time with you, and it’ll be better if you’re awake.” 

The car ride wasn’t terribly far; John’s ex lived on the other side of Putney Bridge, in the only house they’d ever lived in as a family. John had agreed to let her keep it in their divorce settlement because he felt it would serve as a stable environment for the kids in the face of the changes created by their parents’ separation. 

You pulled into the front drive and turned the vehicle off. In the front window, you saw a flicker of movement as John’s young son, Joshua, leapt from the back of the sofa and raced towards the door, probably shouting for his siblings. Although you had arrived right on time, the little boy had been waiting at the window for the past 15 minutes, keeping an eager eye out for his father’s car to pull up in front of the house. When you reached the front door, Joshua ripped it open before you could even knock or ring the bell. He bolted out and latched onto you in an exuberant hug. 

“Y/N!” he screeched, pressing his cheek to your stomach. “You’re here!” He had no shoes on his feet, and was succeeding in wetting the bottoms of his socks on the damp pavement. You made a note to ask Veronica how many pairs she’d packed in his weekend bag before you left. 

“Sure am,” you grinned, ruffling the boy’s mousy brown hair. “Are you excited to spend the day with your Dad?” He released you and began jumping up and down in place, as if he’d never been so excited in his life. Joshua was a bit younger than the children you taught in the Poplar primary school that employed you, but you were very familiar with the high energy common to most six-year-olds. By his actions, it was clear that he always looked forward to seeing John, especially because their father hadn’t had much time to see them while Queen had been recording the previous fall. 

“Joshua, come back inside, please,” a woman’s voice called from within the house. You put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push towards the door, which was all he needed. He raced back inside and tore up the staircase. A slim, blonde woman answered the door, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. 

“Hi, Y/N,” John’s ex greeted you politely. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but the kids will be down in a moment.” She took a drag from her cigarette and leaned against the doorframe, standing between you and the house. There was no need for that, you thought. You weren’t going to step in and invade the privacy of her home, and you felt perfectly fine to wait outside. The rain had subsided, so at least you weren’t standing out in a downpour or anything. 

“No problem at all,” you nodded, acknowledging her. “Sorry John couldn’t be the one to pick them up. He’s had a headache this morning, and wanted to give himself a bit more time to rest before the kids came over.” There was no reason you needed to provide this information, but you chose to do it anyway. It was important to you that the kids’ mother trusted you enough to allow you to pick them up. After all, you were more than just their father’s girlfriend; you had moved in with John shortly before Christmas, a fact that Veronica had not been pleased with. 

“If John’s not feeling well, maybe the kids should stay here for the weekend,” Veronica suggested, frowning. “I’d rather they’re able to see him when he’s able to pay them attention.” Her comment frustrated you; it wasn’t as if he was going to ignore them all weekend. John had been looking forward to this visit for quite a while, you knew. 

“He’ll be fine,” you countered. “We have plans for my birthday tonight, anyways, and this is the only day Robert and Michael could both be with us.” She raised an eyebrow, seemingly disinterested in your explanation. 

“How old are you turning, 21, 22?” she smirked, tilting her head to one side. “You can’t be much older than Robert, really.” Heat flooded your cheeks, and you clenched your teeth behind the smile you forced. She had said this as a stab at both you and John, and it wasn’t appreciated. 

“26 tomorrow,” you noted brightly, being careful to respond kindly. Animosity between the two of you wasn’t good for the children. Really, you wanted them to always feel that you respected their mother, and her importance in their lives. You had no interest in replacing that role – you just wanted to love them in whatever capacity you could. 

“We’re ready to go,” John’s sole daughter, Laura, announced from behind the door. “See you on Monday morning, Mum.” The four children filed past their mother, each giving her a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. With a wink, you handed the keys to Robert when his mother was occupied with helping Joshua tie his shoes. The two of you had been practicing his driving skills twice a week after school, and he was hoping to surprise John and Veronica by passing his road test next month. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Michael greeted you, adjusting his baseball cap on his head. John had brought it back for him as a small gift from a trip to America several years before, and Michael rarely left the house without it. You pinched the brim of the hat and shifted it off-kilter, eliciting a shy smile from the boy. Laura, however, avoided your gaze. Your smile momentarily faltered, but you didn’t press the matter. It was possible she was having a rough day, and that was fine. You never demanded affection or conversation from the children if they weren’t interested in it. 

The three younger children piled into the backseat, with Laura taking the middle. She helped Joshua with his seatbelt, and once everyone was buckled, they gave you the thumbs up, something you had started doing as a way to check in with them now that the seatbelt laws had been put into place. Michael, pretending to hold a radio to his lips, put on his best impression of an astronaut as Robert turned the key in the ignition. 

“Michael to Robert, come in, Robert. Over,” he droned, adding a ‘kshh’ sound effect to the end of each sentence, imitating radio static. 

“Robert to Michael, initiating launch protocol, over.” 

“Michael to Robert. Confirming safety check. Initiate thrusters on my count, over.” He counted down from 10, with Robert putting the gearshift into reverse on 3, and beginning to back out of the drive when the count reached zero. Joshua shrieked with delight, putting his hands in the air as if the car had really turned into a rocket ship. The children had invented this little routine one afternoon when you were driving out to Roger’s property, where Freddie and Jim were having a small anniversary party. 

“Alright, now that we’re off,” you addressed them all, turning in your seat to look at them behind you, “everyone give me their star and their wish from the week.” 

“I want to go first!” Laura announced, her eyes flickering to meet yours for only a moment. “I already thought of mine.” She appeared happier than she initially had, but still seemed a bit off. 

“Alright, go for it, Laura,” you encouraged, nodding at the girl. She set her knapsack on the floor by her feet and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Her eyes, the same grey-green as John’s, grew wide as she smiled. 

“Well, my star hasn’t happened yet, but I think it will be today,” she predicted. “And my wish is that we could stay more days with you and Dad.” You nodded courteously, raising your hand to offer her a high-five. She pressed her hand against yours, letting her fingers lace together between your own; this was her preferred method of giving high-fives, as she felt it was more ‘ladylike’. 

“Great, who’s next?” 

“Mine are the same as Laura’s,” Robert said, checking over his shoulder before changing into the turning lane. He transitioned smoothly, much to your relief. You would prefer if he didn’t kill all his siblings at once in a motor vehicle accident, and had told him so in a quiet whisper when you’d climbed into the passenger seat beside him today. 

“Mine, too,” chorused Michael and Joshua, exchanging a quick glance when they thought you weren’t looking. It made your heart warm to hear that they were excited for the day. You had told John that the best gift you could receive for your birthday was time spent with the people you loved most: him and the kids. 

It was Laura’s turn to pick a CD to listen to on the way to the house, and she selected one of your personal favourites, “Who’s Next” by _The Who._ No one complained, as this was a group all of you enjoyed, even if Robert would have preferred Nirvana. 

“So how old are you turning, Y/N?” Joshua asked, leaning forward in his seat to pat your shoulder and get your attention. “I’m six!” 

“Joshua, you’re not supposed to ask a lady how old she is,” Laura scolded, “Mum says it’s not polite.” 

“It’s alright, Laur, I don’t mind telling you four, as long as you promise to keep it a secret.” The three children in the backseat nodded seriously, assuring you they would keep it to themselves. “Well, my real birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” you explained, “but I’ll be turning 26.” 

“Wow, that’s old,” Joshua breathed, causing you to burst out laughing. Laura rolled her eyes and pretended to die of embarrassment. She had been trying her best to make sure her brother was always polite, but being six years old wasn’t very conducive to that goal at times. 

“If you think that’s old, you should hear how old _Dad_ is,” Michael informed him gravely. “Remember his birthday a little while back? He turned 40.” Joshua’s jaw dropped open, now recalling that his father was indeed old, especially in comparison to himself, and maybe even to you. The three youngest children began to natter at each other, discussing who of their schoolmates were oldest and youngest, and who they thought might be oldest of Dad and “the uncles” (Fred, Brian and Roger). 

“Can I ask you a question, Y/N?” Robert asked softly, peeking in the rearview mirror to ensure his siblings were occupied by their conversation. 

“Of course,” you nodded, turning your attention to him. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I heard, um…what my Mum said to you today…about your age. So I was wondering,” he hesitated, hoping not to hurt your feelings, “if you’ve ever felt odd, being so much younger than Dad.” He bit his lower lip, truly concerned that this might be an off-limits question to ask. 

“That’s a good question,” you acknowledged thoughtfully. “I think it’s harder when I compare my age to yours. I’m only 11 years older than you, but 14 younger than your dad, so it makes me feel a bit odd, maybe, when I realize that I’m really not that much older than you.” You watched his expression, which was poker straight, not revealing his own opinion on the matter. 

“Does me being much younger than John bother you?” you inquired. “Your dad mentioned that some kids from school had made comments about it.” 

“Maybe at the beginning it did,” he admitted. “When I didn’t know you yet, I think I felt weird about it. But now that I see how good you are for Dad, I don’t mind a bit.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance, not wanting to distract him from the road. 

“Thanks for being honest,” you said appreciatively. “I hope it’s obvious that I love your father, despite any differences we may have. And I’m sorry you had to overhear what your mum said today; I’d prefer that none of you have to know about any of our adult problems.” 

“I’m sorry Mum spoke to you that way, though,” Robert apologized, glancing over at you. “That wasn’t fair of her.” You shrugged, having put her comment behind you by now. 

“I think she worries that I’m going to try to replace her as your mother,” you murmured sadly. “I hope I never give off that impression, though. I love the four of you very much, but I wasn’t the one who raised you up from babies. I’m glad she was the woman who did because you are the amazing people you are today because of how she raised you.” 

“You’re just a different sort of mum-type person,” Robert smiled. “You do the stuff mums are supposed to do, but you can be our friend in a way regular mums can’t.” By the smirk on his face, you knew he was recalling an incident that had occurred a few months back. 

Robert had called you one evening while John was out, and asked for a ride back to his mother’s house – she was out for the evening, and he didn’t want her to know he’d been drinking. He and a friend had gone to a party at some sixth form student’s house, and had made some decisions you were sure neither John nor Veronica would approve of. Early in your relationship with the older children, you had told them they could always call you for help if they needed it, and Robert had remembered in his moment of need. You’d picked him up, sat beside him in the toilet while he was sick, and covered for him when Veronica asked what he had done that evening. 

“I’m glad you feel that way,” you spoke, wiping away a stray tear. For some reason, this conversation was making you feel a bit choked up; Robert’s words touched your heart in a way you hadn’t know was possible. Six short months ago, you’d never even imagined having children of your own. Now, you had four whom you loved more than anything. 

When the flat came into sight a few minutes later, Robert pulled the car up to the kerb and his siblings spilt out onto the sidewalk, eager to see their father. Robert passed you the keys so you could park in the garage below the facility before climbing out of the driver’s seat. 

“Be up there in just a moment,” you told him, adjusting the seat to accommodate for your shorter legs. “Make sure the kids make it up the stairs, and don’t talk to strangers!” He rolled his eyes at your lame comment, but you caught him smiling as you rounded the corner towards the garage. 

* * * * * 

When you opened the door to the flat, John was out of bed, dressed, and had somehow found time to put out a variety of party decorations. Suddenly, the odd behaviour you’d shrugged off earlier made sense; he’d planned an actual birthday party! 

“Surprise!” Laura and Joshua shouted when they saw your face. Michael was holding a disposable confetti popper, which released a burst of confetti like rain above your head. “Happy birthday, Y/N!” You opened your arms and all four of John’s children joined you in a group hug. They ushered you towards the dining room table, where John had laid out a feast of your favourites from the Indian takeout restaurant you always ordered from when you didn’t want to cook. The kids chattered all throughout lunch, discussing what you should do with the afternoon once the meal was over. Half voted on watching a film, and the other half voted on board games. As the birthday girl, you were the tiebreaker; to everyone’s delight, you decided on doing both. 

“We have another surprise for you, Y/N!” Laura informed you after lunch, jumping pulling you towards the sofa. She seated you on the cushion in the centre, and took her place beside you. “But you have to close your eyes, alright?” 

“I don’t know if that’s safe,” you laughed, squealing a bit when Michael put his hands over your eyes. You had been picking pieces of confetti out of your hair the entire time you ate lunch, and would probably still be vacuuming up pieces of it well into next year – what else could they be so excited about? Joshua crawled into your lap, grabbing both your hands with his. Large, teenager-sized feet padded across the hardwood, stopping behind the sofa. The record player started up behind you, playing one of your and John’s favourite songs – Three Times a Lady by the Commodores. 

When Michael removed his hands from over your eyes, you opened them to see John, his hand outstretched towards you. With a giggle, you took his hand and moved to the centre of the sitting room. Michael and Robert shifted the sofa to the back wall, with Joshua and Laura still seated on it. 

“How about a special dance for the birthday girl?” John smirked, raising your hand in the air to twirl you around. 

“I’d be honoured,” you smiled, resting one hand on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around your waist and ever so gently guided you around the room, staring into your eyes the entire time. The children had all seated themselves on the couch and were watching you closely, as if they were waiting for something. 

Lionel Richie’s voice rang out sweet and clear, accompanying the piano and orchestra. You couldn’t stop smiling as John sang along to the record – albeit terribly. In this moment, in front of your little family, John’s love for you was on full display. 

_You shared my dreams My joys My pains You made my life worth living for And if I had to live my life over again, dear I'd spend each and every moment with you._

When the song ended, John spun you once more, dipping to one knee as you returned to face him. He pulled a small velvet box from his trouser pocket and opened it to reveal a beautiful diamond solitaire. Your eyes went wide and your mouth dropped open. 

“Y/N,” John began, clearing his throat, “when I laid eyes on you for the first time half a year ago, I knew that you were someone special. From day one, you’ve shown me what it is to be strong and kind and faithful. You’ve welcomed my children into your heart with open arms, and have been my support and confidante in every situation.” He stopped, allowing himself to catch a breath. His eyes were wet, and you thought that if said another word, he might lose it entirely. 

“Daddy, just tell her!” Joshua shouted urgently. Laura threw a hand over his mouth, mortified at her brother’s outburst. To everyone’s surprise, you began laughing, happy tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“John Deacon, are you asking me to marry you?” you smirked, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“Yes, I think I am,” he beamed up at you hopefully. “What do you say?” 

“I’d say we have some phone calls to make.” 

* * * * * 

**SURREY, ENGLAND // NOVEMBER 1992**

From your bedroom, you heard the front door of the house open. John, having gone on a long walk around the property, had finally returned. Joshua had fallen asleep an hour ago, the older children were reading quietly in their rooms, and you sat tucked beneath the blankets in the bed you shared with your husband. When John’s slow footsteps sounded on the stairs, you glanced up from your book. It took almost a full minute for him to make it up, his heart heavy with twenty years of memories. It had been a year, to the day, since Freddie had passed away. 

The past year had its share of ups and downs, for John especially. Some days, he struggled to get out of bed, and would lie staring at the ceiling for hours. He would sleep long hours, rarely being awake at the same time as anyone else. His eating patterns were irregular, and some days, forcing him to eat a bowl of soup was all you could do. The children respected his need for space and time, and as a result, often stayed at their mother’s house. 

Before Freddie had passed, you celebrated your marriage with a small summer ceremony in the back garden of the Surrey house you and John had recently purchased. Everyone you loved was there: John’s children; Freddie and Jim, Brian and Anita, Roger and Debbie; your mother had even been given a pass from her care home to attend the event. It was short and sweet, and was followed by a picnic-style dinner. Freddie had been unsure if he would be able to make it, but somehow, he found the energy for the outing. 

He was gone by the end of fall, leaving a hole in the hearts of his family, friends, and fans worldwide. A tribute concert in his honour was held in April, which drew a crowd of over 70,000. The show was incredible, and you were so proud of John for having found the strength to join his friends in one last show. You’d known that he would take the loss of his best friend hard, but at times in that year, you feared losing John as well. 

Now, one year after he’d passed, Freddie still lived in all your hearts. You talked about him regularly with both the children and John, having been told by the therapist you’d encouraged John to see that it was healthy to acknowledge memories and feelings about the person who was gone. As it grew closer to the first anniversary, John had become quieter, more closed off – an expected change at this milestone. 

When John walked into your bedroom, he crept over to your side of the bed, bending down to kiss the forehead of your six-month-old daughter, Lily. She was fast asleep, swaddled in a bassinet beside you. 

“He would have loved her,” John murmured, touching her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Sometimes, I can’t believe this is all real – her being here, and him being gone.” After pressing one last kiss to your sweet baby’s hand, John undressed and crawled into bed beside you. Once you’d dog-eared the corner of your page, you set your book down and turned toward your husband, whose eyes were squeezed shut beside you. The moment your hand touched his back, he began to shake. 

“That’s right, love,” you soothed, trailing your hand across the skin of his back. “That’s right, let it out.” He somehow muffled the sound of his sobs, careful not to wake the baby. When he was all cried out, he lifted his head and placed it in your lap, allowing you to drag your fingers through his hair. In the two years since you’d met him, he’d gone almost completely grey. 

"I don't think there's anyone else in this world that was quite like him," John spoke, his voice thick. "I wouldn't be the person I am today without him, I'm sure of that." 

"He certainly brought light and life into every place he went," you smiled. "I wish I'd gotten to know him better, but I'm glad that he'll live on through you, and Brian and Rog, too. He gave a piece of himself to everyone he met, and we get to hold onto that." 

“I think it must get easier after a time,” John said softly, his voice almost hopeful. “The grief, that is.” 

“Of course it will, love,” you responded gently. “But until it does, it’s alright to be sad. You loved each other a long time – that leaves a big space for sadness to fill.” 

“No, sadness can’t fill up the space he left behind,” John disagreed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to breathe normally for the first time that day. “Only love can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to EVERYONE, both on AO3 and Tumblr, for reading, sharing and interacting with this series. I felt that this was the best way to end things, and hope that the ending I've written does the story justice.


End file.
